


Buckaroo's First Recruit

by stew (julie)



Category: The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension (1984)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-07-16
Updated: 1988-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22129297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: A lonely, aimless young man is working as a bartender at a fancy hotel in Chicago. Change comes in the unexpected form of Buckaroo Banzai and Professor Hikita…
Relationships: Buckaroo Banzai & Rawhide
Kudos: 1





	Buckaroo's First Recruit

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** I am scanning in these old stories from a very old zine, so please forgive me if the OCR program and my editing skills aren’t quite as sharp as Rawhide would like! 
> 
> **Warnings:** Ummm… vigilante violence? 
> 
> **First published:** in my zine “Samurai Errant: Cavalier Tales Quixotic and Profane” #1 on 16 July 1988

# Buckaroo’s First Recruit 

♦

### PRELUDE 

I lay alone and sleepless, gazing up at the ceiling of my bleak one-room flat. The couple next door were screaming at each other again, and someone below was playing a guitar very badly out of tune, but I was used to that. None of that usually kept me awake at all. One grows used to these things when one insists on inner-city living. Chicago pulsed noisily about me, and I felt like a lone yacht adrift in an endless, windless ocean. I couldn’t think of what to do next with my life, and anyhow, even if I did think of something, I didn’t have anyone to do it with. I’d done so much with my life already, it was beginning to seem a little pointless to continue. Maybe I’d already done everything I could do with just one life. And I was alone, truly alone for the first time in my eighteen years. Alone and sleepless and growing steadily more melodramatic. I lay staring at the ceiling of my bleak, loveless flat.

♦

### ONE 

“Can I serve you gentlemen?” I asked the mismatched pair who’d come in to sit at the bar, talking animatedly. 

The younger one turned to me, smiling, a spark of fire in his eyes. “Hey, Rawhide!” he greeted me. I pushed back the brim of my hat in perplexity, and found myself returning his grin. “Two bourbon and drys, please.” 

“Yes, sir!” Pouring their drinks, I couldn’t help overhear their conversation. Then again, listening in to people was one of the few things that made this job at all interesting. 

“Hikita-san, please trust me. I know you worry about Xan –” the younger one started. 

“He could have you killed at any time. I have spent all these years afraid that he would complete his dastardly deed.” 

“And he means to, I know. But you should know that I mean to kill him first. Won’t you trust that?” 

I’ll tell you now, it wasn’t the weirdest conversation I’d overheard. The older man was looking distinctly careworn as I set down their drinks in front of them. The young one, with his striking eyes and his self-possession, seemed quite capable of dispatching this Xan character at any given moment. “That’ll be three fifty, gentlemen,” I said. 

The younger one handed me a five dollar bill. “Thanks, Rawhide,” he said, looking up at me. I just stood there for a moment, then blindly fumbled over to the cash register. The overwhelming desire to strap on my six-guns and go hunt out this Xan person myself swept over me. Later I was to find that this man could size anyone up, name them and recruit them with one sweep of those eyes. For now I was desperately thinking of how I could butt into their conversation and talk to him myself. 

I brought his change over in the usual little tray, set it carefully down and lingered maybe a second longer than I needed to. One problem was I’d never been particularly outspoken with people I didn’t know. Another was I hadn’t had a decent conversation with anyone since Florens had left and, before her, Pete. Sometimes I thought that if it wasn’t for asking people what they wanted to drink six nights a week, my vocal chords would atrophy.

“Hey, Rawhide,” I heard, and I looked up eagerly. “I saw you the other day at the White Sox game.” 

“You did?” I said, sounding really dumb. No one ever recognizes me. I’m the sort of neutral-looking guy that everyone treats as part of the background, despite me being six foot three. 

“That was some game. You hit three home-runs.” 

My eyeballs almost popped out. He remembered, he actually _remembered_. Right then and there, I was decided. I wanted to follow this guy anywhere, whether he liked it or not. Especially if he remembered the home-runs I hit. 

He was reaching to shake my hand. “Buckaroo Banzai,” he introduced himself, “and, Rawhide, this is Professor Hikita.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, shaking each hand in turn. Never very good at hiding what I was thinking, I found the Professor eyeing me dubiously.

“Buckaroo, you tell me we’re as anonymous as possible walking around Chicago; then we walk into a bar in a hotel, and the bartender knows who we are!” The Professor seemed quite upset, and not a little infuriated with his companion’s amused smile. 

“Ah, there’s more to Rawhide here than meets the eye,” Buckaroo said. 

“Oh, indeed,” I said, playing along. “Now, Tad down there, or Rudie,” I indicated my fellow bartenders, “wouldn’t have had a clue. It’s just rotten luck you picked me.” 

“Buckaroo, he might know you because he’s working for Xan!” Professor Hikita insisted. 

“Hikita-san,” Buckaroo replied, turning to face him, “I promise you, Rawhide is not working for Xan. He’s a fine fellow – straight as an arrow. Just look at him.” 

I stood there under Hikita’s wary gaze, trying not to look dumb again. The smaller man sighed. “You’re right as usual, Buckaroo. But you don’t realize the danger you’re in, with all this talk of fighting Xan.” And he turned to me. “I’m sorry, young man. I am not as trusting as my foster-son.” 

“No apology necessary, Professor,” I said, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m sorry I startled you. But anyone interested in physics, who hears those two names together – Anyhow, I knew you were in town, because you’re doing those guest lectures at my university.” 

“And while we’re all apologizing here, I should point out that I just gave Hikita-san a scare myself, so he’s feeling a little suspicious right now.” 

It wasn’t hard to figure they had something to talk about, so I excused myself to serve some other customers, and generally tidy up a little. There’s never a shortage of things to do in a bar where management insist on everything being classy, clean and sparkling, and also on hiring no more than three bartenders at any given time. 

It was a pretty lousy job actually, but the hours suited me, and I’d needed the money while I was studying. Not to mention they let me practice on the piano after hours. 

“Want another drink?” Buckaroo was asking the Professor. 

“You know we can’t afford to drink in places like this.” 

“You can’t deny you need a drink right now.” Buckaroo turned to me, to find I’d already poured two stiff bourbon and drys. 

“On the house, gentlemen,” I said. 

“Now you see, Hikita-san,” Buckaroo said, looking at me. “All I need is a few decent, intelligent people like Rawhide here… Can you handle a gun?” 

“Yes, indeed,” I replied, rather eager to be his first recruit. 

“And in answer to Xan’s World Crime League, I’ll have my Cavaliers.” He sat there staring at me unseeing, the whole idea obviously ticking over in his head. “It will work, you know.” 

“Definitely,” I agreed, nodding vigorously. 

Professor Hikita was looking resigned to it all. “If you were any younger, Buckaroo, I’d tell you to stop playing games. Fighting Xan won’t be like Cowboys and Indians.” 

“I know how serious it is. Rawhide – it’s Xan who killed my parents. He’s forming this organization called the World Crime League. And I mean to do something about it.” 

“Count me in, Buckaroo.” 

“We were in Monte Carlo, and we met were people fighting crime there who –” 

“Who are professionals with a great deal of experience,” Hikita cut in. 

“Then we’ll be amateurs, and do it for the love of it. What time do you get off tonight?” Buckaroo asked me. 

“Tonight I finish up about two, but then I usually practice on the piano for an hour.” 

“Indeed? Then I’ll be here at two with my guitar!”

“OK,” I said, dumbfounded. We shook hands all round again, Buckaroo beaming away all the while with an intent expression on his face which I was soon to learn meant that he had a few ideas on the boil. 

“Night, Rawhide!” he called as they walked out the door. 

It took me a few moments to come back down to reality and realize there was another customer waiting on my attention. Then I realized who it was perched nonchalantly on the barstool, and almost tripped over my big feet getting to him. “Pete!” 

“ _What_ did he call you?” 

“He calls me Rawhide.” 

“Good grief. And what do you call him?” 

“Buckaroo.” 

Pete sat there, all of thirty years old, shaking his head sadly. “Boys will be boys,” was his pronouncement.

“Pete, where in Hades have you been?” 

“Here and there.” 

“It’s been six _months_. I live with you every day of my life, and then you just vanish for six months. I didn’t know what to think.” 

He very coolly drew out a cigarette and lit it. “So how have you been, little brother?” 

“Rotten. What’s it to you?” I’d almost made up my mind that Pete must be dead. 

“Where are you and Florens living now? I went to our old apartment and they said you’d all gone to LA.” 

“Yeah – she went to Hollywood. Got the lead role in an indie flick.” 

“What about Jordan and Madison?” 

“I left them with Florens. She wanted to look after Madison.” 

“And that’s why you’ve been rotten, eh?” 

“Not really. Florens had to go to Hollywood, I had to stay here, that’s all. I had to finish my degree.” 

“Good God, you’re the ones who wanted to get married. I _told_ you you’re too young.” 

“That’s not it at all. There was nothing wrong between us. And, Pete, it’s none of your business.” 

“OK, OK. I didn’t mean to get into an argument with you first up.” 

“You back for good now?” 

“Yeah – I got some work here. Good work. Lots of money and prestige and all that. You wanna see the car I drive these days!” 

“Where’s the job?”

“Now, you know I can’t tell you that sort of thing, little brother.” 

“Pete, you’re a fool.” 

“And you’re naive. You always knew how I operated, and you chose to ignore it. Now I guess you want me to change. No way. I’m the leader in my field, and I’m finally getting rich. Raking it in from both sides – a little for the boss, a little for me.” 

“You’re a bigger fool than I thought. Does your boss give you enough to afford that new car of yours?” 

“Of course. And enough to give you a bit of a present.” 

“No way. You keep it.”

“I brought you up on my shady earnings – I gave you everything you needed, I got you an education first hand from anywhere and anyone you wanted. Why refuse it now?” 

“I was too young to know better.” 

“And now you’re an old man of eighteen, with an estranged wife and child, you think you know it all.” 

“I know what’s right. I thought I learned that from you.” 

“Maybe you did. I just apply the lesson a little more honestly than you.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“How did you get this job at seventeen, eh? Through that fake ID I got you in Mexico.” 

“So I broke the law – but that doesn’t mean I did anything morally _wrong_. I had a family to feed!” 

Pete opened his mouth to answer me back, but Tad butted in. “Hey, McGraw wants to know if you’re serving this gentleman, or what?” 

“Tell him ‘or what’,” I muttered, but gave Tad a grin. “Can I serve you, sir?” I asked Pete coolly. 

“No thanks, _Rawhide_ ,” he said, straightening his tie. “I’ve got some business to attend to.” 

He got up to walk away, and I suddenly remembered how lonely I’d been lately. “Pete, I didn’t mean…” 

“Later, little brother,” he said, walking out. 

Glumly, I turned back to the other customers. Pete and I had only ever argued once before, and I didn’t like it one bit. But recalling our previous argument brought a smile to my face. It had been when I wanted to marry Florens, and he had objected vehemently – something about Florens (at twenty-three) being old enough to know better. I never got any more reason than that from him. Humble as I was in the face of Florens’ love for me, I wasn’t going to argue with her or object to our marriage! In our dingy little flat, Florens, very pregnant with Madison, had waddled around angrily telling Pete how much I cared for him. I never had figured out how they got onto that topic, but they seemed to find it relevant. Jordan, as much a friend to me as a step-daughter, ended up climbing a table to get to Pete’s level and telling him to get his act together. Seeing Pete humbled by the no-nonsense eye-to-eye glare of a five-year-old was all I’d needed to start laughing. At first they all looked at me as if I were mad, but within moments my family was laughing together again, and hugging each other. Pete of course had ended up being my best man. Only now I’d lost them all, my four best friends. And despite my wisest intentions, I missed them horribly. 

Out in the foyer, I could see Pete talking to some unsavory character I’d seen around the hotel a lot recently. For a moment, I thought about going out to talk to him, but then that would be futile. It seemed that Pete and I had headed in different directions, just as Florens and I had. It was the end of that part of my life. 

But then I remembered just who was meeting me after work, and I started thinking of this as a beginning instead. 

♦

### TWO 

As usual, Tad stayed behind polishing off the rest of the glasses as I sat down at the piano. He smiled over at me. “Play me the Mozart tonight.”

“OK.” I reckon McGraw only agreed to me using the piano (after hours, in my _own_ time) because Tad had hit on the ingenious argument that it needed playing to stay in working order. McGraw, while treating the piano more like an ornament than a musical instrument, nevertheless hated to see anything he managed (other than the bartenders) fall into disrepair. Then again, I reckon the ingenuous Tad could talk virtually anyone into anything. He talked McGraw into letting me wear my hat on duty, for instance. Said it would give the place a bit of character. And we all know how the customers love a bit of character in a bartender. 

Buckaroo breezed in halfway through the Mozart, guitar case in hand as promised. “Bar’s closed,” called Tad. 

“That’s OK, I’m with Rawhide here,” Buckaroo said, smiling that smile at him. 

“You mean,” Tad spluttered – “you mean this lout has _friends?”_

“Too right,” Buckaroo agreed. He started setting up his guitar, plugging it into a tiny amp he’d had stashed away in the case. 

“Well, if that’s the way it is…” As I finished the Mozart, Tad brought over a bottle of the best sweet white wine and two glasses. “Night, Rawhide. Thanks for the Mozart.” 

“Night, Tad. See you tomorrow.” 

He laughed at our usual sour repartee as he swung out the doors. “Man, you mean later _today_.”

Buckaroo struck a chord to check his tuning. “What sort of music do you play, Rawhide?” 

“Ah, anything. Blues, jazz, syncopated –”

“A man after my own heart. Do you know ‘Melancholy Martian’?” 

“I certainly do.” 

Next time I looked at my watch, it was almost four o’clock. Buckaroo was grinning down at me, his blue eyes shining, flexing his tired fingers. “So, what else do you do other than hit home-runs, make excellent bourbon and drys, handle a gun, and play a mean piano?” 

“Well, I’ve just finished a degree in anthropology. That’s about all.” 

“Yeah?”

“And what do you do other than fight crime, lead the world in neurosurgery, and play a hot guitar?” 

He turned away. “Oh, the NSF gave me a scholarship to get my physics degree, then they wouldn’t give Hikita-san and me a grant to continue our research.” 

“Same field as your parents?” 

“Doomed to failure, they said.” 

“Hell, the National Science Foundation don’t know nothing, Buckaroo. They don’t know nothing about particle physics, that’s for sure.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

“I was offered places at three universities when I just turned sixteen, but the Foundation wouldn’t give me a scholarship because my schooling was too unorthodox.”

“And that’s why you have to work half the night.” 

“The college was generous, but I had a family to look after.” 

“Rawhide, grab another bottle of that wine, will you?” 

I uncorked another bottle, and we sat in the lounge chairs looking out at the city lights, the lake, the street walkers, the people wandering in and out of the hotel in mink coats and tuxedos. 

“You sure picked the best place to work, anyhow.” 

“You can run into interesting people here.” 

“So, tell me about this unorthodox schooling of yours.”

It was easy to reminisce with Buckaroo listening. All the days of my life with Pete, travelling all over the world literally learning anthropology and entomology first-hand before I even knew what the words meant. It was all simply what fascinated me. Pete was right in one thing at least – he had taken me anywhere I’d wanted to see, to anyone I’d wanted to meet, found me any book I’d wanted to read. It was probably his sheer audacity that got us through time and time again. And I guess it had suited him to move around a lot. I’d been devoted to him, especially since we’d lost our parents when I was eight. It was only after he’d disappeared six months before that I’d started thinking of all the things I’d turned a blind eye to. I’d known all along, I suppose, that Pete had operated on the shady side of the law. It was computers he was into – a field where the criminals were still several steps ahead of the police. Companies were yet to offer a hacker a good enough salary to make it worth their while to work for security rather than against it. 

Only I didn’t tell Buckaroo much about that side of Pete. If Buckaroo was going to fight crime in Chicago, I didn’t want him starting with my big brother. 

“What they should do,” Buckaroo said, breaking my chain of thought – “not just the NSF, but all the scientific organizations. What they should do is organize themselves around the right _people_ as opposed to getting the right _results_.” He got up and started pacing back and forth across the windows. “If you get together all the most intelligent, the most innovative people, regardless of their schooling or track record, and leave them free to pursue whatever research they want to, that’s when you’ll get the _real_ results. Not by hampering the greatest minds through lack of funding, insisting on instant results so that there’s no experimentation –” He stopped short and laughed down at me, his blue eyes hot. 

“You’re quite right,” I started. “If these people banded together…” 

“If I get down off my soapbox, and start _doing_ something about this… Practicalities… How would we support ourselves? Maybe we’d all have to work behind a bar somewhere.” 

“There’d be money coming in through royalties, patents, things like that.” 

“But that would put the pressure on for results again.” 

The answer seemed obvious to me. “Then you record some of those songs we played tonight and become a billionaire rock star. All in the name of science, of course.” 

“Rawhide…” 

“You think you couldn’t do that? Buckaroo, you’ve got more talent _and_ more charisma than anyone in the music charts right now. This never occurred to you before?” 

He shrugged and laughed again. “Obviously not. I’m a poor man…” 

“But money unfortunately seems to be the way the world runs. All we need is enough to support ourselves. To stay independent. If we all lived together like a family, rather than just working together…” 

He wandered away, lips pursed. “So, we have this group of scientists all freely exploring whatever they want to, and these Cavaliers toting guns all set to fight the World Crime League, and then we have this rock group making plenty of hit records to support the lot of us… And you and I running the show…” He turned back around. “Rawhide, while I’m often glad my parents left me such a large house and laboratory complex, I don’t think I can quite fit all these people in!” 

He sat down, a little despondent. “It all sounds like too much fun, Rawhide. This is life as we’d like it to be.” And he whispered, “Hikita-san already thinks I’m off the rails.” 

I looked at him, my spirits suddenly sinking. Of course it was all one of those marvelous save-the-world schemes that anyone with any stretch of the imagination could cook up late at night over drinks with a friend. Of course none of this would ever actually come true. It was just those bright eyes of his – they could make you believe anything was possible. 

“But of course! Don’t you see?” he was suddenly saying. Despite my better judgement, hope clutched at my heart. “ _They’re all the same people._ The scientists, and the good guys, and the rock group are all one.” 

“But where do we find them?” 

“I found you,” he responded. “That’s two of us to start with. There has to be more out there.” He was staring at me unseeing. “And our aim –” 

“To serve humanity despite itself,” I filled in for him, believing again. 

He laughed. “You’re right. The Cavaliers – Science for Humanity – Rock’n’Roll for Humanity! Despite humanity’s most vociferous protests.” 

“Buckaroo Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers,” I unwittingly christened this superhuman dream. But the name seemed appropriate to Buckaroo’s own blended Eastern and Western heritage. 

“The Hong Kong Cavaliers!” Buckaroo toasted, and we drank long and deep. 

♦

### THREE 

“You are playing games, you two. You are so young! And no sense of proportion. Such dreamers. What do you know of fighting crime?” 

“You were a dreamer once, Hikita-san,” Buckaroo said a little sadly. 

“And look what happened to me,” the Professor replied, slumped in his memories. Buckaroo and I exchanged a heartfelt, silent sigh. Buckaroo, of course, didn’t want to begin our venture without Hikita’s blessing, but the Professor wasn’t interested in the idea at all. In a last effort to persuade him, Buckaroo had brought Hikita along to the bar this evening, and I was serving him double bourbons. The poor man seemed genuinely upset about some aspect of our dream, but neither Buckaroo nor I could figure him out. 

“What happened to you?” Buckaroo asked gently. 

“My best friends are dead. No one alive takes my work seriously until their precocious little boy, who I tried to raise single-handedly, grows up. Then, when I think there are reasons for living again, I find he has not grown up at all. He wants to go play Cowboys and Indians with the most dangerous man on Earth. He wants to gather some friends around and play rock-and-roll music, and make scientific breakthroughs, and fight Hanoi Xan in his spare time. Where did I go wrong? I ask myself. What did your parents ever do to deserve this?” 

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Buckaroo started reassuring the Professor as I went to refill their drinks, and serve a few customers. 

I saw Pete come into the foyer, but he didn’t even look in my direction, he just spoke to that shady-looking character who was forever lurking about out there, and then disappeared upstairs. I heaved a sigh again. It was one thing having your beloved big brother vanish for six months. It was something different again when he came back and hardly gave you the time of day.

Then I realized the shady guy was looking back at me, so I nonchalantly pottered on back down the bar, cleaning up a little as I went. This guy had shown undue interest in the bar the last few days. Maybe Pete had said something disparaging to him about his square little brother. 

Only then Buckaroo was standing, staring ferociously out the glass doors at an even shadier looking guy out there. “Soy Grits!” Buckaroo hissed.

“I beg your pardon?” I asked, but Buckaroo didn’t respond. The man in the foyer, flanked by Pete’s contact, stared back at my friend congenially, even waving a negligent greeting as he sauntered out towards the Chicago streets, seemingly unaffected by Buckaroo’s ice-blue eyes. 

I looked back at my friend to see that Hikita stood defiantly protective in front of him. “Hanoi Xan’s lieutenant,” Buckaroo filled me in. “The dregs of humanity.” 

“What would he be doing in Chicago?” Hikita asked.

“Setting up the Chicago branch of the World Crime League,” Buckaroo answered. “Hikita-san, we have to do something now. We have been sitting around these past few days talking, and meanwhile Soy Grits has been operating under our very noses.” 

“But, Buckaroo – as soon as Xan sees you as a threat, he will kill you! You are so young. You will have no chance!” 

“Hikita-san, I have to fight him, you know that. And I have to do something _now_. If I leave him be, his Crime League will gain a foothold in every major city around the world. How can I fight Xan in years to come, if I let his power grow unhindered now?” Buckaroo spoke in an urgent whisper, and the people around us in this public bar all stirred. I smiled a little, already under the spell. As Buckaroo kept talking, Hikita had a hard time remaining unmoved by his passionate plea. 

“A Banzai is nothing if not stubborn and headstrong,” the Professor finally opined. 

“You know what I’m saying is true. There is no time to be lost.” 

“You display your family’s traits, even though you were raised by a Hikita.” 

Buckaroo put an arm around the Professor’s shoulders. I didn’t hear what he said, but the older man seemed moved. I kept myself busy a small way distant from them. 

Then Buckaroo was calling me over again. “Rawhide, would you find out what name Grits is staying under at the hotel? And how many people he has here with him?” 

“No worries.” 

“I’m going to take Hikita-san home now, but I’ll be back soon. There’s some things I need to check out first, and then we’ll have to work out a plan of action.” 

“OK. Goodnight, Professor.” 

Hikita looked long and hard at me. I guessed he could be a tyrant when he wanted to. “I am relying on you to look after Buckaroo,” he told me. 

“Of course I will. You know I’ll be honored to.” 

“Hikita-san…” Buckaroo started. 

“No, you listen to this young man,” the Professor said. “You may be a little older than him, but he has a great deal of sense.” 

“I know that. Of course I’ll listen to him. He’ll be my right-hand man. He’ll be the best of friends.” 

Hikita nodded, and let Buckaroo lead him out.

I kept busy for the next hour or so, until McGraw had left for the evening and Fiona had come in to work the front desk. Tad had his eye on Fiona, and the fact that she was my friend more than his really irked him. As she maybe intended it to. She was the only person I knew who was immune to his unassuming charms. “Hey, Fiona, I need another favor.” 

“Is McGraw gone? Sneak me out a vodka and orange, and I’m yours.” I produced a very large and stiff drink for her. “What can I do for you, my man?” she asked congenially. 

♦

### FOUR 

“Hey, little brother.” Pete sat on a barstool opposite me. 

“Want a drink?” That glum feeling swept over me again. It was just on midnight, the bar was almost empty, and Buckaroo hadn’t come back yet. Tad was out in the foyer talking to Fiona. Rudie of the limited attention span was slowly, lazily cleaning the tables, watching the clock, plainly wishing something interesting would happen to help pass the time. 

“Just a beer,” Pete said. I rummaged around to find him a bottle of his favorite. “Ah, you remembered,” he said contentedly. 

“After all this time,” I agreed. “How’re you doing?” 

“Fine, just fine. Thinking of moving uptown. Get me one of those nice condominiums. All the fashion these days. You could come live with me.” 

I eyed him sourly, but I don’t deny my heart leapt a little. “I don’t think so.” 

He took a long mouthful of the beer. “No, I guess not,” he said. “We don’t seem to have the same friends anymore.” He leaned over the bar a little, gaze grabbing my attention. “You’re hanging around with the wrong people, little brother.” 

“I was going to tell you the same thing,” I said very seriously. 

“I mean it. The guy I work for – he’s warning you to keep away from this Buckaroo friend of yours. He’s just trouble, trouble for all of us.” 

“He ain’t no trouble for me.” 

“I have no idea why, but my people see him as some sort of threat. If you hang around with him, then you and me are in trouble. Do I have to spell it out for you?” 

“He is trouble, he _is_ a threat to your people. You’d know that if you knew him any better. He means to do something about the people you work for. And I mean to help him.” 

Pete laughed. “You guys – you crack me up. Buckaroo and Rawhide. What you gonna do? Saddle up and run him out of town? What the hell do you think you’re getting into here?” 

“I know what _I’m_ getting into. It’s you that doesn’t. You’ve always been small-time, hurting no one, never making much money –”

“The hell you know! You saying all this is too big for me? Just what do you think I’ve been doing all my life?” 

“Playing games.” 

“Well, I’m damned serious now, and you’d better be, too. I don’t want to see you in trouble. I know what these guys are capable of doing.” 

“And I know what we’re going to do to them.” I had every confidence in Buckaroo, even if I had no idea of what he actually had planned. 

“Little brother, if you mess this up for me, I swear I’ll… Look, this is the best thing I’ve been in on ever. You’re right about that.” 

“I sure am gonna mess it up for you,” I told him levelly. “Don’t think that Buckaroo can’t do it, because he can. If you take my advice, you’ll get out of it now.” 

“No way. I’m backing the right horse here.” 

I just looked at him for a long moment. I’d already lost him, I guess, but this all made it chillingly final. “Then we can’t be friends anymore, Pete.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. 

“You stay with them, then I’m your enemy.” 

He stood, drained the rest of his beer. “Then this is farewell, until you come to your senses,” Pete announced. “I can only hope you do so before they kill you.” And he repeated that, almost hissing: “ _They’ll kill you._ ” 

I stared stonily at him, and he turned to walk out. “Pete,” I said. 

He turned again. He had stepped out of the light from the spots above the bar, so I couldn’t see his face. “What?” he demanded coldly. 

“I need your help.” 

At that he stepped back again, and I saw his eyes fierce and cruel and hurt. “What the fuck makes you think I would help you now? We’re on different sides, child. You’re on your own. Isn’t that how you wanted it?”

“You’ll help me because I’m the only family you have left, and you love me, and you owe me.” 

He shook his head, smiling his disbelief. “Yeah, I guess I do owe you,” he said, surprising me. I loved him enough to think that I owed him, but maybe he felt the same way. A rather large part of me wanted to drop everything right then and there and have my brother back again. But before I could say anything, he’d looked up again and whispered, “What do you need?” 

“Information,” I said, more firmly than I felt. “I can tell you tomorrow exactly what. Then I want you to destroy their systems, help ruin them.” He eyed me bitterly. “You can do that, surely. Stop embezzling money for them. Empty their accounts instead. Crash whatever systems they have running. Maybe send some embarrassing information someplace. I don’t know the terminology – stick a few glitches in their programs.” 

He nodded. “All right, all right, I get the idea. Where do we meet? Somewhere neutral.” 

“The Tipsy Iranian, then. At noon.” 

“Health haven’t closed that place down yet?” He seemed mildly amused. 

“Pete –” I started. 

He looked at me coldly. “This is the last thing I do for you, little brother. I’ll see you tomorrow, then never again.” 

“But you’re doing the right thing here for me. All I’ve asked you to do is what’s right.” 

“Right or wrong, it’s the last time you’ll see me.” 

“But if you stayed – Buckaroo has this idea. We could do with a computer expert. Why don’t you join us –”

“Not my scene. We’re on different sides now, little brother. I’ll do this for you in the hopes you get them before they get you. Then you’re on your own.” 

“Pete…” 

“I’ll be round at noon tomorrow. Then I’ll see you in hell, child. I’ll see you in hell.” 

♦

### FIVE 

“Rudie, take the bar would you?” I wandered over to the piano, played some blues. There just didn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to anything right now, including my music. One of the customers, however, left a tip by my beer glass. I smiled a little at that. We’d always reckoned our clientele had heaps of money but no class, and definitely no taste. 

“Play something cheerful, man,” Rudie said. “Sing something.” A couple of customers agreed. Rudie was in one of his moods – there would be free drinks all round tonight, and McGraw would make life hell tomorrow. But I obliged them. Life was already hell tonight. It was one thing having your beloved big brother hardly give you the time of day. It was something different again when he said he’d see you in hell. 

“For God’s sake, where have you been?” I heard Tad behind me. “Cheer him up, will you? He’s driving the customers to drink with his music.” 

“His music is beautiful,” Buckaroo replied, sitting beside me on the piano stool. “No – no wine tonight, thank you, Tad. I’m on duty.” 

“Let Tad make you a drink,” I advised. Tad was a wonder with exotic non-alcoholic drinks. Like I always said – there has to be some reason for McGraw to keep him on. 

“What’s up, Rawhide?” 

“Well, I spoke to Soy Grits’ hired hacker. He’s going to get whatever information we need, and then crash all their systems.” 

Even Buckaroo Banzai needed a moment to take that in. “But how on earth did you do that? What did you have to do? Who was it?” 

I kept my gaze fixed on the keyboard, my fingers mechanically finding the right notes. I changed the key to minor and slipped back into some blues. “It was my brother. Pete’s their hacker, and their accountant. He said he owed me, so he’d do this one thing for me.” 

“But, Rawhide –” 

“Score one for the Cavaliers.” 

“You hit another home-run.” 

“Yeah.” I guess I didn’t sound so thrilled. 

“So, do you think Pete would want to try out as a Cavalier?” 

“Hell,” I swore, and quit playing. “He didn’t even give me a chance to offer. He’s not one of the good guys, Buckaroo. We owe him for this time, but next time we treat him the same as the rest of the bad guys.” 

“Where will he go?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I hope he gets out of this. He kept on about what they’d do to _me_. God knows what they’ll do to him.” I heaved a sigh. Started playing some of the syncopated stuff that Buckaroo loves. “What did you get up to tonight?” 

“Bit of research. The word’s out on the streets – Grits is financing this thing on heroin. They’ve flooded the market with high-quality merchandise at good prices. Everyone else is out of business, so they have no choice but to align with the League. Grits must be raking it in.” 

“Scum.” 

“Yes.” 

“Where are they operating from?” 

“I don’t know. But there’s a shipment due in soon, it seems. If we can expose that, while Pete is messing them up from his end, we might just halt Xan’s expansion into Chicago. I fear he already has too strong a claw-hold in New York City.” 

“It might work. Even if it doesn’t get Grits, he won’t be able to operate here for a good while. Pete should be able to tell us when and where the shipment comes in. Yeah, and something else. Grits has the whole east wing of the sixth floor here. That’s five suites. Fiona has no idea how many people are staying with him. And guess what name he’s going under.” 

“Not –”

“John Smith.” 

Buckaroo’s serious look didn’t falter for long. “You know, we might need some help. Know anyone else who has a modicum of sense and can handle a gun?” 

“Yeah. Fiona on the desk out there. She decided that if she was working the graveyard shift, she should take self-defense classes. Then she started getting serious.” 

“Seen her in action?” 

“Once she dispatched this pesky guy with a knife before Tad here had even blinked his eyes.” 

“He ain’t never gonna let me forget that,” Tad mourned behind us. 

“Too right. And this is a private conversation,” I told him. 

“All right, all right. I’m going.” 

Buckaroo smiled at him, then at me. I suddenly remembered how it had felt to meet him and be his first recruit. And only hours ago he’d declared I’d be his best of friends, his right-hand man. For a few moments he was every person I’d ever cared about.

“We’re going to do this, and keep Pete safe, and then we’re going to go home and set up the Hong Kong Cavaliers. OK?” 

“OK,” I said, smiling again. 

“Play me some more syncopated music. I think that’s what the Cavaliers are going to play.” 

“Sounds good to me.” And with me playing, and Buckaroo singing, even Rudie started enjoying himself. 

And I’ll let you know a secret. That feeling, that Buckaroo was every person I’d ever cared about…? I never really lost it ever again. 

♦

### SIX 

I was still smiling somehow the next day as I led Buckaroo through the University grounds to the obscure little restaurant called The Tipsy Iranian. It was a place patronized exclusively by the college students, possibly because I’d never seen it advertised, heard it mentioned outside the University or found it listed in any phone book. Pete and Florens used to meet me there all the time, often in the late afternoons before I went to work. 

I followed Buckaroo through the double entrance doors into the dimness beyond, and we threaded our way through to the booths at the back of the room. 

“What?” one of the waiters snapped, glowering down at us. I hadn’t warned Buckaroo, and almost burst out laughing at his look of surprise. Politely, I ordered a bottle of their house white. 

“They drank it all last night,” came the brusque reply. 

I had a think about this. The house red often had lethal effects, but one bottle between three of us shouldn’t be too harmful. “The red then, thank you. And three glasses. “ 

“There’s only two of you.” 

“We’re expecting someone else.” 

The waiter glared at us, turned on his heel and stormed off. 

“What on earth…?” Buckaroo asked, bewildered to find me laughing. 

“They’re all like that here. Whatever race, age or sex, they’ve the worst tempers you’ll ever find. And for the record, I’ve never met one Iranian here.” 

“People come to _eat_ here?” he asked.

“The food’s awful, I warn you, and the service is worse. But you’ll see – it’s a very amusing place.” 

Our waiter reappeared almost immediately with our wine, but got side-tracked by the manager on the way to our table and had a ten minute stand-up argument with her. 

“The biggest brawl I’ve seen was when one of the students, for a dare, deliberately and systematically insulted that guy’s parentage.” 

Buckaroo blanched. “You’re alive to tell the tale?” 

“We had prior warning. Florens and I watched most of it from under a table. Anyway, it was one of those children’s brawls where no one really gets hurt.” 

Finally we got our wine, and Buckaroo bravely took a mouthful. “Mmm, not bad,” he said when he got his voice back. “Pity about leaving bits of the cork in it.” 

“Maybe the half he spilt on the table will kill anything nasty lurking in the cracks.” 

Pete showed up about half an hour late, cheerily avoiding meeting our eyes. “Which waiter did we end up with?” he asked. 

“Rutver,” I told him. 

“My favorite!” he exclaimed happily. “Hey, Rutver!” he yelled across the room. “Three plates of your best goulash.’’ 

“We don’t serve that Hungarian crap here,” was the response yelled back.

Pete grinned. “Three plates of your best Iranian crap, then.” The waiter didn’t deign to answer, but we had three plates of some surprisingly edible stew in front of us only minutes later. “God, I love this place,” said Pete. 

“Pete, this is Buckaroo,” I finally said. 

“I know him by sight and by reputation,” was Pete’s terse reply, the grin leaving his face. But when he looked up, he shook Buckaroo’s proffered hand. 

“Rawhide’s spoken a lot about you,” Buckaroo said. 

I laughed humorlessly. “I only told him the good bits.” 

“Must have been a short conversation,” Pete said drily. I glared at him. 

“Don’t do that,” Buckaroo cut in. “You’ll end up looking like Rutver.” 

Pete broke into a smile first, then I couldn’t help but join him. “He’ll do,” Pete told me. He turned to Buckaroo. “What information do you need?” 

“There’s a shipment of heroin coming in. I need to know when, where and how.”

Pete whistled low. “That’s getting serious all right. And what exactly do you intend to do with the information?” 

“I want to tip off the police, anonymously so no one can trace it back to you. Then, at the same time we’re sorting out the shipment, you can put the boot in from your end.” 

Pete nodded slowly. “That might work. But you’ve got to guarantee me anonymity right up to when I start my part of things. After that, it will be obvious who’s done what to whom. I’ll be getting away immediately.” 

“Last night you warned me about what they’re capable of doing,” I said to him. “Where will you go? How can you be sure you’ll be safe?” 

“If it’s all the same to you, child, I ain’t telling you.” His eyes became cold again, and he frowned at me. “You’d better lose your naivety if you wanna stay alive in this game.” 

“He doesn’t need to lose anything,” Buckaroo said quietly. 

“You two cowboys… If I tell you this, I sign your death warrants.” But I saw him looking askance at Buckaroo. No one who met Buckaroo could doubt him for long. 

“You’d be safe if you came to New Jersey with us,” I said. 

“Sure, everyone’s _safe_ in New Jersey,” he retorted. 

“Buckaroo’s lived his whole life under threat from these scum you work for. You’d be safer with us than anywhere else.” 

Pete sat back, considering us. It didn’t hurt that he took my offer more seriously now he’d met Buckaroo. That’s just the way Buckaroo was. “No,” Pete finally said. “We’re on different sides now, little brother, like I said. You don’t approve of my way of life, and I ain’t gonna fit into yours. I meant what I said last night.” 

He looked me in the eyes, and I remembered too vividly all the things he’d said. A part of me felt like dying. Pete had been all the family I’d had for too many years, and after I’d left Florens in Hollywood, it had been too easy to simply wish for Pete to return and bring the good old days with him. 

I looked over to Buckaroo, and he looked back at me reassuringly with those blue eyes of his. There was an ending in me finally, and a clean beginning. 

I barely heard what they said then. Pete was giving Buckaroo places, dates and names, methods and operations. I sat staring unseeing at Buckaroo’s fine musician’s hands fiddling with the cutlery.

And then Pete was getting up, saying farewell. I knew I’d never see him again, but I couldn’t look up at him. He was waiting for me to say something, but my throat had jammed up. I looked steadfastly at Buckaroo. Then I felt Pete’s hand clutch my shoulder briefly before he walked out. If there were tears on my face, Buckaroo didn’t mention it. He just poured me more of that god-awful wine, and I drank it silently, cork and all. 

“When’s it on?” I finally asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” 

“Sunday at dawn. There’s a light plane coming in to land at a joy flights airstrip north of town. Meanwhile, not only is Pete crashing their systems but he’s sending some pretty interesting information to the mayor’s office. When the mayor gets in on Monday, she’s going to find details of all the bribes that various officials have been taking on her computer, including dates and bank accounts.” 

I smiled a little. “I hope she’s not corrupt, too.” 

“Pete thinks not, and I guess he should know.” 

“OK. What do we do now?” 

“I don’t suppose we can trust the coffee here?” 

“I wouldn’t recommend it on top of the wine.” 

“A public phone, then. Maybe a number of public phones to avoid them tracing my call. Pete gave me the name of a detective who actually thinks there’s something to these rumors of a World Crime League. Malone. He’s already been giving Grits some trouble. We’ll have to try and recruit him. I’m sure that you and I, Fiona and Malone can cope with the shipment.” 

“You want a phone?” I smiled wide. “Let’s start with the one in here.” 

“What have you got that evil look on your face for?” Buckaroo asked suspiciously. He soon found out. 

After about ten minutes of arguing, Rutver finally wheeled out the restaurant’s phone, which looked as if it had been made before Bell was even born. Buckaroo eyed it skeptically. 

“Which end do you speak into?” he asked. 

♦

### SEVEN 

Fiona sat beside me, leaning back against the corrugated iron of the hanger, blowing on her fingers to try to warm them. “However did you talk me into this?”·she asked, but her eyes shone. “I must be crazy. I desperately need my beauty sleep.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her.

“That sounds like one of Tad’s lines.” Fiona smiled a little, huddling up in the pre-dawn chill. 

“Nervous?” 

She shrugged. “A bit. And excited, too. I really can’t believe I’m doing this. If it wasn’t for your friend –” 

“I know.” I looked over at Buckaroo hunkered down behind some oil cans with Malone and his German Shepherd. (“If anyone asks why I was here, officially I’m walking my dog,” was the first thing Malone had said as he’d strolled up.) “Hey, it might be a while – why don’t you catch a little sleep?” 

“It’s been a long night,” Fiona sighed. We’d both worked until four, and then Fiona had driven the three of us in her old Chevy an hour out of town to the airstrip. She moved closer, leant her head against my shoulder. “Don’t you doze off, too!” 

“Not a chance.” 

“Wake me up when the shooting starts,” she murmured, slipping into sleep already. I tried to bury my hands deeper into my pockets. At least it isn’t snowing, I told myself. 

For an eternity, the Morning Star paled, the east horizon glowed against the greyness. Buckaroo’s voice and laughter cut through the still air, but I couldn’t make out what he and Malone were talking about. I put my arm around Fiona, and she sleepily cuddled up closer. Maybe for a moment I closed my eyes. 

“What’s that?” Fiona lifted her head, sleep falling off her. There was a faint buzz in the distance which faded to nothing once you concentrated on it. 

“That’s them,” I said. We crouched in the ditch running alongside the hanger, guns at the ready. Buckaroo looked over and saluted, grinning broadly. 

“Where ever did you find him?” Fiona murmured. But then the plane was landing, and the sun was rising behind Buckaroo and Malone’s oil cans. “Here’s for it.” Fiona cocked her pistol. 

The plane pulled up not twenty feet from us. A guy hopped out of the back, all black leathers and gun at the ready, swinging around quickly to confirm what he already knew – all was safe. No one messed with 5oy Grits’ business. He and the pilot started unloading boxes into an old delivery van just by the runway. 

“Hold it! Police!” Malone’s voice boomed out as he stood, badge held aloft. Buckaroo stood as well, gun aimed firmly at the pilot, then moved a little closer. 

“Drop your weapons!” 

The man in black, squinting against the sun, lifted his gun, sneer on his face. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with.” Gun at arm’s length, pointing straight at Malone’s heart. The pilot swinging round to run at Buckaroo. 

A shot, deafening in the dawn. The man in black spun, clutching his shoulder. Fiona was on her feet, yelling ferociously at the pilot, “Stop or you get it, too!” He stopped in mid-stride, slowly lifting his hands, palms facing her. 

Under Fiona and Buckaroo’s cover, Malone and I moved in and handcuffed them both. And the dawn was still again. “Everyone all right?” I asked stupidly in the silence. 

Fiona started breathing again. “We did it!” she said unbelievingly. 

“Thanks to you, ma’am,” Malone commented, slipping his revolver back into its holster under his suit jacket. He went to inspect the boxes. “Heroin, all right. Must be a million bucks worth here.” 

Buckaroo and Fiona were tending to the guy’s bullet wound, undeterred by his caustic stare. “Good shot,” Buckaroo said admiringly. 

“You just bought yourself a heap ·of trouble,” the pilot muttered. “You don’t know what you got yourselves into.” 

“Ah, yes we do,” I said. “But why don’t you tell us all about it anyhow.”

“Christ, let me read them their rights first!” Malone called out. He headed for his car to radio in. “I think the Chief should see this little lot for himself.” 

Buckaroo smiled up at me. ‘‘What a team!” 

I just shrugged. I hadn’t been much use just then. Fiona had saved the day. 

But Buckaroo left our prisoners under her watchful eye and came over to me. “We wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you. We’re a team, you and I, and don’t you forget it.” 

♦

### EIGHT 

Fiona was asleep on my shoulder again, this time on the uncomfortable chairs at the Chicago central police station. We had each told our stories, and now we were waiting for Buckaroo to finish his. It was three in the afternoon, and he’d been talking for two solid hours. 

I put my arm around Fiona, and she fitted into my side snugly. The hard seats, the feel of her against me, the waiting, all took me back months to the airport. Of course the plane to California was late, and Florens had slept beside me, Madison quiet against her breast, Jordan on my knee studiously flipping through some colorful magazines. I had leant my cheek against Florens’ mass of dark hair. “Do they wear dresses like that in Hollywood?” Jordan wanted to know, holding a magazine open before me. 

“Sometimes, angel. Like, if your momma wins an Oscar, and she goes up to accept it, she’ll be wearing a beautiful dress like that, and she’ll say ‘I want to thank my Jordan and little Madison, and they should both go to bed now’, because you’ll be sitting up late to watch it on the television.” 

“And will you be there? And Pete, too. He can buy us all new dresses like when you married Florens.” 

“No, Jordan, I won’t be there.” 

Florens had stirred in my arm’s tight embrace. “We’ll all be thinking of you, though,” she promised. “We’ll still all be loving you, won’t we, Jordan?” 

She had stretched, as Fiona now stretched beside me, back in the bustle of the police station. “All finished, Rawhide,” Buckaroo appeared before us. “They believe the worst about Grits, and that’s the best we can do for now.” 

“Did they say anything about Pete?” 

“No, they haven’t heard anything.” No news is definitely good news – I read that in Buckaroo’s eyes. 

If we never heard of Pete again, then that probably meant he was safe. Still… I couldn’t help but say, “I wish he was coming with us.” 

“Where are you going?” Fiona asked, never moving from under my arm. “And when?” 

“Back home to New Jersey,” Buckaroo smiled down at us. “As soon as Rawhide gives his notice and packs his saddlebags. Maybe you should come too, Fiona.” 

She gazed up into his blue eyes. “And do what?” she faltered. 

“I’m looking for scientists, musicians, adventurers. Rawhide tells me you’re a linguist and a percussionist.” 

“Well, yes, but with no means to research, or practice –”

“I’ll provide those means.” 

Fiona pulled away from me, for some reason still not convinced. “Could Tad come, too?” she asked uncertainly. “I know he’s not the most serious person in the world…” 

“I’m sure we can make some use of him, Buckaroo,” I put in. ‘‘He can cook at least.” 

Buckaroo smiled. “All right! Three Cavaliers and one chef! And maybe even Hikita-san will start taking us seriously now.” He laughed delightedly, and heads turned all around us, envious of they knew not what. “The adventure begins!” Buckaroo declared. 

♦

### CADENZA 

The adventure began indeed. I was no longer a lone, drifting yacht – now I joyfully soared with direction and purpose and the love of a close friend. A friend who, dynamic as he was, still had needed me to give him direction and purpose, too. All that I’d done in my eighteen years was now simply the start, not the total, of my life. A gift of experience to bring to Buckaroo, so that he could rely on me, make use of me. His best of friends, his right-hand man, his first recruit. I stepped forward at his side with a glint in my eye and a smile in my heart. 

### THE BEGINNING…

♦


End file.
